


you animal, you ungrateful (you cannibal eat my soul)

by yaboyrskeezy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Will Graham, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaboyrskeezy/pseuds/yaboyrskeezy
Summary: Will goes to Hannibal to try and cut off their relationship because he’s come to realize there’s something sinister going on with his psychiatrist, but Hannibal manages to convince him that maybe he’s just as depraved.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	you animal, you ungrateful (you cannibal eat my soul)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is halfway a song-fic for Animal by Badflower. 
> 
> FAIR WARNING: Not giving away any important details but Will does hurl at the end, I didn’t make it super graphic but if that bothers ya, skip the whole last paragraph. I tried to make it end fine both ways. 
> 
> I don’t own the song, or these boys although I wish I did.
> 
> And it’s unbeta’d so PLEASE tell me if there’s any misspellings. Good lord I know they’re in there too.

_ You animal,  _

_ You ungrateful,  _

_ You cannibal,  _

_ Eat my soul— _

Will stood outside the psychiatrist’s office. He rubbed the fingers on his left hand together, forefinger and thumb to try and calm himself. He itched to turn around, it was nearly nine o’clock, and Hannibal would be leaving, he would probably come to the door already in his coat ready to go home at any minute. Will berated himself for showing up at all let alone  _ unannounced  _ on a cocktail of no sleep, four cups of coffee and what he’d guessed was about ten aspirin. 

“Oh, hello Will,” Hannibal said, voice surprisingly soft when he opened the door, “come in.” He smiled, walking back into the office, hanging his coat on the rack as Will followed half a step behind. He realized how ill-prepared he was for the conversation the way his heart had started to pound in his chest, or maybe it was the caffeine, the  _ anxiety _ —

“Have a seat.” 

“No, I’m not staying. I—we need to talk, I don’t think I can come see you anymore. Things in my head they’re  _ changing  _ and I think it’s you,” he took in a shaky breath, hands flailing and running through his hair, “ever since I’ve been coming to see you,” he pointed right at the doctor, “I’ve gotten worse.” He started to pace with hands on his hips, his worst nervous habit that he could do for hours on end if allowed. 

“My thinking is to the contrary, Will.” Hannibal stated simply, opening his coat and taking his seat. 

_ Contrary?  _

“Please enlighten me—because from where I’m standing I keep getting  _ worse  _ and nothing has actually improved, pretty shitty psychiatrist.” Will crossed his arms, hoping to look maybe less pathetic than he actually felt, but Hannibal knew, he always  _ knew.  _

“I’ve only noticed minor changes, you’ve been having health issues unrelated to your psychological issues. What changes have  _ you  _ noticed?” 

Will’s mind flashed back to his most recent string of dreams. Hannibal cooking one minute, then his white shirt would be stained with blood—

_ Who’s blood? Hannibal’s? His own?  _

Then the hand, one of those large, strong hands would clasp around his throat. His vision would blur, marring everything about the other man’s face except for his eyes, eyes that had gone  _ red  _ like some monster—a demon, the  _ devil with black skin.  _

Will would never beg for mercy though, not in these dreams—no, he’d beg for  _ more, harder, Hannibal help me, I’m broken,  _ and  _ fix me, _ spill out of his mouth like a prayer to the evil looming over him. Hannibal would force himself inside Will with such ferocity that he would physically ache when he’d wake up sweating and panting for all the wrong reasons. 

He’d wonder if it  _ had  _ been a dream. 

Or if he’d  _ slipped.  _

“They’re more vivid, I can’t separate anything anymore—you’ve gotten inside me, you’ve fucked me up and the worst part is I can’t remember when it started.” When he finally stopped pacing and looked up at Hannibal. His face was unnervingly calm, eyes starting to cloud with a darkness that Will had seen very few times. 

“In what way have I gotten inside you? I’ve simply tried to help you, as a friend, to make sure you don’t ruin your career.” 

“Then please! By all means, start being my shrink because what’s going on up here isn’t  _ normal,”  _ Will was yelling now, throwing his hands around while his throat burned with the tears coming up into his eyes as he took slow and jagged steps toward Hannibal, “tell me what’s wrong with me. What’s happening to me?” The desperate edge in his voice was embarrassingly boy-like, and he followed the doctor with his eyes as he rose from his seat. Hannibal stared at him— _ through him god damnit— _ while he shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders. 

A flash, red— _ the devil,  _ laying the jacket gingerly over his chair. 

“What are you doing?” Will asked, cautious and on edge as Hannibal stalked into the space that had once stood between them, building the tension like the lead up to the crescendo in an opera. His eyes were now the darkness of his dreams manifested in reality, a predatory glaze over them that sent the smallest, masochistic shiver down his spine. 

“I’m going to help you,” he answered, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs, “when you say I’ve gotten inside of you, I don’t think you know what that  _ does  _ to me. It’s almost like you’re offering yourself to me, and I’ll be more than happy to indulge you.” 

Will’s mind  _ flooded  _ with the highlights from the worst of his nightmares. Hannibal looked  _ feral  _ now, hair falling from its coif, jacket gone—it felt like he was exposing himself, his true self, the monster that he carefully pulled the human suit over to mask the horror. Will died a thousand deaths at that moment, the knowledge that perhaps the Hannibal that lived in his head was the man’s true form. He was just peeling back the layers of his false humanity to show Will what he really was. 

And he still  _ couldnt fucking move.  _ He’d been rendered immobile by his own thoughts. Who was the man in front of him, and why was he so willing to bend to him in the face of his own terror? Hannibal’s hand laid against Will’s cheek, and he leaned into it despite the fear coursing through him, the desperation for his touch was  _ overwhelming _ and threatened to consume him entirely. 

“You’ve become starved, and you crave my attention to quell that hunger,” his thumb ghosted over Will’s mouth, “tell me, what were you coming here to do tonight—so late with whiskey on your breath?” Will resisted the urge to part his lips, lick them, the pad of Hannibal’s thumb. The doctor had been closing the space slowly, their bodies drawing closer to the point that Will could feel the heat radiating between them. 

“I was going to tell you that we couldn’t keep doing this, this dance—around in circles, when I’m with you I feel like a cow to slaughter.” The last part came out in a whisper, his voice cracking and thick with the emotion caught up by all the other thoughts running through him as he closed his eyes, hoping he’d wake up in his sweat soaked sheets with the dogs staring at him like he’d lost his mind. 

Maybe he had by this point, and everything he was doing was some grandiose illusion while he sat in the soft room at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He could almost laugh at the fact that Hannibal was even included in his delusions, maybe he did crave Hannibal’s attention more than he thought. 

He felt the other man lean in, mouth right up against the shell of his ear, and painfully  _ real.  _

“You seem more like a sacrificial lamb.” He said, voice rough--barely over a whisper which made his accent thicker, and Will felt like he’d slipped under the metaphorical water. His hands found the waist of Hannibal’s shirt, and he gripped it tight for some leverage, something to keep him from drowning. He tried to desperately take in air, chest heaving as the doctor’s mouth ghosted over the pulse point in his neck.

“You arrived here of your own free will, and you can leave anytime you like.” Hannibal said, smoothly, simply like it was so  _ easy _ but he wasn't tethered to anything like Will was tethered to him. He couldn’t know how desperately both sides of him pulled in opposite directions, the conflict of interest in his own mind. 

“But I can’t, you, you’re keeping me here, Doctor Lecter, even if you don’t know it, but you  _ do.  _ You know exactly what you’re doing and you’ve done it all along. The only thing you haven’t done is break my legs so I can’t get away.” He spat, and those teeth bit into his neck with a punishing force that knocked a heated whine from his throat. 

“I don’t need to,” Hannibal said, words slurred against his neck, “you desire something that you cannot fully understand yourself, and that thought makes you more determined. You wouldn’t leave now, even if I walked away from you.” 

His manifested Hannibal pulling back, blood around his mouth dripping down onto his perfectly crisp white button-down shirt. He was being  _ eaten.  _ The panic shot his heart rate up to the level that he was sure he’d have a heart attack. He’d live his last moments in Hannibal’s office, being consumed by the devil, stiff in his jeans. 

“Please.” He whined, pleading for what he wasn’t quite so sure of. 

For Hannibal to stop—for him to _ continue _ ? Was he so far gone that he would let Hannibal have him on a silver platter? The throbbing in his lower half would have him believe so despite the shake that had taken over his entire body. 

“I see you’ve gained back a bit of your politeness after that outburst. I think we should keep it that way.” Hannibal’s hand moved from Will’s hip to around his back, sliding down to grip him and close the distance completely, answering the questions Will had been asking himself when he felt the doctor pressed against him, just as stiff. 

Will moaned, mouth open and loud enough to echo the walls in the office. He felt himself be pushed, and he moved, shocked by the fact that even his god damned legs listened to Hannibal better than they listened to him. The doctor shoved him down onto the sofa more roughly than Will had expected. Maybe Hannibal was losing his own control a little, and the thought creeped into his mind to take advantage of it. 

_ —Like antifreeze, kill me sweetly,  _

_ You chemical, break me down,  _

_ My albatross always with me,  _

_ My cynical siren song— _

He became painfully aware of what was happening, time moving like cold molasses as Hannibal’s hand pushed Will’s shirt up, grabbing at his chest, fingers running over his nipple and making his breath hitch. Will’s whole body thrummed with  _ want, need— _ he itched for Hannibal to press disgrace into his skin. 

“You’ll know this darkness after today, there will be nothing I have to hide from you, much like you can’t hide yourself now.” 

“I’ve never been able to hide from you, I told you—you’ve cut me open and crawled in.” Will gasped out as Hannibal bent down to take one of those nipples into his mouth, biting it and sucking it into a sore, purple bruise that would surely hurt for days to come as he dug his heels into the sofa. 

Will’s vision swam, the next few moments a blur of Hannibal pulling off his tie, and shrugging off his vest to leave him in just that crisp button down Will was so used to seeing him in. The jingle of Hannibal’s belt terrified him,  _ thrilled him _ in a way that sent chills over his skin. 

His dreams weaved in to his reality, one moment Hannibal was normal, and the next he was a beast. The monster Will feared resided in the man he’d been so foolish to call a friend. He felt his jeans get pulled down just enough to expose him and his cock fell against his belly, fully hard and leaking already. 

“You are beautiful to me.” Hannibal told him, and he felt a little doubtful laugh bubble up. If the older man beheld him as beautiful he didn’t even want to know how other people saw him.

“Beautiful disaster, someone else for you to manipulate, someone else totally under your control—you want to make a meal out of me, devour me until there’s nothing left.” He choked out, not missing the small reverent smile pull at the corners of the doctor’s mouth. 

_ —You animal, got your prey now,  _

_ You’re ravenous, time to feed— _

With no warning, the doctor pushed two fingers into him up to the knuckle, a half-attempt to prepare him for what was to come. Will’s body fought the intrusion at first. It screamed  _ no, stop, that’s not what I want _ —but it wasn’t true, and his dreams had made that fact perfectly clear, he wanted it more than he could articulate with common parlance. 

“ _ Stop,  _ I can take it—this feels like teasing, torture just please.” He pushed at the older man’s hand, hearing a dark chuckle come from what sounded like Hannibal’s  _ chest.  _

The pain of being pushed into was  _ blinding,  _ searing hot and almost so overwhelming that Will nearly passed out. His lips tingled from hyperventilating, his fingers white where they balled up the doctor’s shirt. It almost didn’t feel like enough. The overstimulation left him wanting more, the pain making everything slide into focus enough that he could venture to guess it was what normalcy felt like. 

“ _ Will.”  _ Hannibal panted harshly above him, drawing him back into what they were doing. It was good,  _ devastatingly  _ so—raw and untethered, he saw and heard Hannibal so  _ clearly.  _ He started to stiffen from where his erection had flagged from the pain, and the older man’s hand was there, stroking in time with rough thrusts that jolted Will so hard he felt like he was being pushed up the sofa. He slid his hand down, placing it over the doctor’s, feeling himself in Hannibal’s grip. Those hands that could snuff his life out giving him some of the most intense pleasure he’d ever felt, the duality of it made him dizzy. 

_ —Claw at my walls, _

_ I’ll come when you cry,  _

_ Oh, no now, you’re never gonna love me— _

He sucked in breath through his teeth, let it out with loud groans, moaning more than he ever meant to when his sweet spot was found and promptly abused. He whimpered out Hannibal’s name like a prayer, head thrown against the sofa and back bowed as the thrusting built up to a fever pitch. He pushed back, trying to get  _ more  _ of what he was being given, feeling like he was too close too quickly. 

“Oh  _ fuck—“  _ he cried out, his climax blindsiding him and he spilled hot and thick over his own stomache and the doctor’s hand. 

He could faintly hear the sound of Hannibal’s harsh breathing above him over the rush of blood in his own ears, as he was fucked in earnest. He listened to his own moans and mewls of pleasure—of pain—from what felt like the outside of his body, like he was watching himself be  _ ruined  _ by his psychiatrist. 

When Hannibal pulled out, it left him feeling more hollowed out than before. He laid on the sofa, panting for breath, wrecked and waiting for the pin to drop as the doctor’s spend leaked out of him slowly.

_ You vicious enchanting monster, _

_ Fill my veins with cool desire— _

“Will you be keeping your regular appointment time?” The doctor asked, righting himself as Will laid there, following him with his eyes. 

“I will if—if you tell me how that was supposed  _ help?”  _ He asked, his voice oddly calm even to his own ears. He watched Hannibal button the cuffs of his shirt. 

“You understand now,” he sighed, pulling his vest on and buttoning it, “what you need, what it is that you desire.” He said pointedly, and the realization made Will nauseous. 

_ —There’s blood on your tongue,  _

_ When you kiss me goodbye,  _

_ Oh no, now you’re just like an animal— _

Will made it about halfway home before he had to stumble out of the car, heaving the meager contents of his stomach into the dirt by the side of the road. Maybe he’d truly gone insane. His head pounded, temples throbbing with each gag and cough until he was fairly certain he was finished before collapsing back against the trunk. Out of the corner of his eye, his burden moved through the trees, always watching him and lurking like the beast it was as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. At least he had his standing appointment to look forward to.

_ Oh no, now you’re just like an animal _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This one took a long time because my attention span is NON-EXISTANT. 
> 
> I hope y’all enjoy it, and there might be more where this came from if I get a wild hair.


End file.
